


I Don't Recognize These Hands

by emraldmoon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Peter Parker, Bully Flash Thompson, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Flash thompson - Freeform, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Iron Man - Freeform, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Spider-Man - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emraldmoon/pseuds/emraldmoon
Summary: Peter comes across an offender that reminds him a bit too much of Flash.





	I Don't Recognize These Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [personface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/personface/gifts).



> WARNINGS: Implied/attempted sexual abuse (nothing too graphic)

Peter sat on the rooftop of his apartment building, half-eaten sandwich in his hand, ready for an evening of patrolling - but there was something off about this time. The city looked the same; same rush hour traffic, same groups of kids getting home from school.

The only thing different was Peter.

His usually-swinging legs as they dangled off the rooftop were hanging still like lead, his grip on the sandwich a little too tight as his eyes scanned the people below him, unable to resist the urge to glower at them all.

Flash had been especially nasty today, and Peter couldn’t get it out of his head.

First, he spilled a beaker in chem and blamed it on Peter, who now had to serve detention after school on Friday. Then, he tripped Peter in the hallway, causing his books to spill out everywhere as he flew. That would’ve been bad enough without Flash spilling his smoothie all over Peter’s head afterwards. (He now hated the smell of bananas.)

Though, what really set Peter off wasn’t what Flash did to him - it was what he did to one of the grade eights coming in for orientation.

Peter grit his teeth as he remembered the way Flash had led her away from the group of thirteen-year-olds, encouraging her with a falsely positive smile. The remaining bite of his sandwich crumbled to pieces in his hand as he saw the poor girl’s expression of fear and confusion as Flash shoved her up against a locker and leaned in close, whispering something in her ear that only seemed to make her squirm.

Phantom muscle tenses ran up his legs as he remembered running after them, calling out for Flash’s attention, the breath of relief when the girl got away safely overpowering the pain that blossomed in Peter’s ribs when Flash kicked him down.

Peter had to blink the red from his vision at the sudden memory, pure rage making him shiver as he forced himself to calm.

Ironically, nothing calmed him down like the faint call for help he heard from the alleyway beside his building.

He wiped the sandwich crumbs from his hands as he quickly tugged on his mask, the ability to help as Spider-Man providing a pleasant distraction as Peter stepped to the edge of the building and looked down.

At first, Peter was confused. All he saw was a man and a woman pressed against a wall… how should he say, enjoying each other’s company, and was about to turn away to give them privacy when he heard a sob.

It was coming from the woman.

Peter quietly lowered himself onto the side of the building, beginning to inch his way down the wall towards the couple. As he got closer, he noticed things he hadn’t from the rooftop.

The harsh grip with which the man was holding the woman’s wrist against the wall, his other hand creeping up her skirt.

The way the woman’s eyes were squeezed shut, head tilted away from where the man was pressing his face against her neck.

Red returned to Peter’s vision full-force, tinting the scene in a violent glow.

His hands clenched tighter on the wall as the scene before him changed.

Flash’s face appeared on the man’s body, pressing the woman tight against the wall. Peter blinked again, and suddenly there were lockers surrounding them. The young, thirteen-year-old girl was looking up at him, her eyes wide, pleading, before they blinked shut against the onslaught of tears.

Peter landed lightly on the ground, prowling behind Flash with a predator- (but unlike Peter-) like growl.

Peter Parker couldn’t do anything before besides letting the girl get away safely and taking the beating.

Spider-Man could do so much more.

He shot his hand out to grip Flash’s shoulder and turn him around, shoving him back against the wall. A devilish smirk appeared under his mask at the look of pure fear he saw on Flash’s face, but the smirk didn’t last for long; it was soon replaced by teeth gritted so tightly Peter believed they might shatter.

That didn’t matter; all that did was that Spider-Man was finally going to make a difference, shattered teeth be damned.

Peter cocked his fist back and rammed it into Flash’s jaw at a speed that felt faster than light. Some small voice - it might’ve been Karen - told him to stop and said something about controlling his powers and “Mr. Stark”, but Peter was too full of aggression to hear it.

He was finally getting his revenge.

And not just for him, either. He was getting revenge for everyone Flash had ever hurt, or tormented - Ned, MJ, that poor thirteen-year-old girl. This was for them.

Flash’s nose was bleeding, and when Peter looked up, the girl was gone. She must’ve ran. That didn’t matter. Peter wasn’t going to stop - Flash deserved everything that was coming to him.

Peter punched Flash, again, and again, and again. A split lip and black eye joined the blood trailing from his nose, making a beautiful mosaic of pain - perfect for a monster like him.

Peter, Spider-Man, didn’t stop when the man fell to the floor, when his pleads became meek whimpers, when they stopped completely. He didn’t stop at Karen’s shouts. He would finish this. Peter Parker couldn’t; Spider-Man would.

There was the sudden sound of repulsors behind him, but Peter barely heard it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He just kept hitting.

And hitting.

And hitting.

The man’s face was turning bright red and pink, blood concealing the shades of blues and blacks and purples beneath.

Peter didn’t stop.

Suddenly, metal-clad arms were wrapping around him. Peter, caught by surprise, flew back against the body, stumbling - but he couldn’t stop. _Wouldn’t_ stop.

He fought against the restraints holding him back, not caring what they were, or where they came from. He threw wild punches, just trying to hit something.

A grunt was heard from behind him and he was released, falling to the ground in a heap - but only for a moment. Peter sprung up, anger bubbling up, threatening to boil over - when he caught sight of the man on the floor.

His legs began to tremble.

That wasn’t Flash.

All the air was pressed from his lungs.

That was a civilian.

He collapsed to the floor.

He had almost _killed_ a civilian.

Peter couldn’t breathe.

 _Peter couldn’t breathe_.

“Peter - hey, Peter, in and out-”

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and Peter flinched away so violently, be almost cracked his head on the pavement as he fell back and-

And he came face-to-face with the man he had almost killed.

His skin was bloody, eyes swollen shut as he lay there, unmoving.

Peter felt like he was going to be sick.

His legs shook, nerves dialled up to 100, as he stumbled to his feet and turned to- to Mr. Stark-

Peter clasped a hand to his mouth.

There was the Iron Man suit, standing with its arms up - ready to support or defend, Peter wasn’t sure - and a dent in the side of the faceplate.

A dent that Peter had created.

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark-”

Peter’s breath wasn’t coming fast enough. His air supply was too little. His head was spinning, legs threatening to fall from beneath him, and he couldn’t breathe, _he couldn’t breathe_ -

Peter hit the ground, hard.

There was that familiar metal again, wrapping around his shoulders, trying to pull him up, but Peter fought against it, though holding back his full strength. He slapped his hands against the armour and pushed, stumbling backwards when he was finally released.

“Oh, Peter,” he heard Mr. Stark whisper. It was only then when he felt the tears begin to drip down his face. Peter was crying.

Tony tried to take a step closer, but Peter scrambled back until he felt the wall, holding his arms up in front of himself. (He refused to look at the man on the ground at his feet.) Tony halted in his approach as he disengaged the suit and stepped out, Peter all too aware of how Tony had to manually force off the faceplate.

“Peter, kiddo, please, it’s just me.”

Peter shook his head and Tony sighed, slowly lowering himself to his knees, fancy suit be damned, as he sat across from Peter.

“Pete, I need you to work with me here,” he said sternly, but not unkindly. When Peter didn’t reject him, Tony took that as a good sign and stepped closer.

It wasn’t a good sign.

“No, don- don’t come closer,” he shouted, pushing himself back further. Tony froze, brows furrowed in confusion as he raised his hands slightly as it in surrender.

“Okay. Okay, kid, I’m staying right here.”

Peter nodded slightly as if satisfied, and Tony rocked back on his heels, unsure. He had never seen Peter act this way before. Was… was he scared of _Tony?_

“I’m a monster.”

 _Oh_ . Peter was scared of _himself_.

Tony’s heart felt like it was shattering.

“Peter, goodness no, you’re not a monster,” he rushed to assure before the kid’s thoughts got too out of hand, but Peter just shook his head, unconvinced. “Peter, look at me.” Tony took a step closer, but the boy flinched back, away from him. Tony’s chest ached.

“Okay,” he said again. “Okay. Not coming closer. Just going to check on our friend over here, alright?”

Peter gasped suddenly, pushing himself to his feet and rushing to kneel on the opposite side of the man of Tony, staring wide-eyed at his face. Tony watched in shock as Peter held his hand over the man, like he was afraid to touch him.

“Alright, that’s enough of that. Peter. _Hey_ , look at me.” Slowly, Peter lifted his head, exposing his red and tear-filled eyes to Tony.

“It’s okay. You’re good. We’re all okay.”

Peter’s eyes began to inch their way back down to the man when Tony snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s face, the boy looking up in shock.

“Kid, don’t look.”

Peter gave a shaky nod, turning his head to the side, blinking back tears.

“Fri, scan him, please,” Tony mumbled to the suit over his shoulder, eyes flickering back up to Peter’s quivering form.

_“Right away, Sir.”_

Tony assessed the man as Friday checked him over, his black eye and bruised skin making him want to look away. _Peter_ did this?

_“Scans complete. Man is identified as John Limand. 35 years old. Broken nose, cracked jaw, swelling around both eyes, and heavy bruising on the face and neck. Minor concussion developing.”_

Tony’s breath caught in his throat. Wow. The kid had _really_ gone all-out.

“Call emergency services. Make up an excuse.”

_“Right away, Sir.”_

Tony heaved a sigh of relief. When he first saw the man, bloodied and bruised beyond recognition, Peter beating him into a pulp, Tony was terrified Peter might’ve killed him. If he had, well, Tony was sure he would’ve had a good reason - but Peter would never forgive himself.

It seemed Peter had calmed down now, rocking back on his heels, staring down wordlessly at the pavement. What had caused him to go crazy? What had provoked his calm, peace-loving innocence?

“Alright, kid, time to go home.” Tony stood, carefully stepping around the body without a glance to offer a hand out to Peter, who ignored it, pushing himself to his feet on his own. “You alright?” He went to put a hand on his shoulder, but the kid flinched away.

“Don’t touch me.” He wasn’t in hysterics anymore. His voice was calm, and controlled - but his eyes were downcast, mouth turned down at the corners. Tony’s chest panged at the sight.

“Why not, Pete?” Maybe Tony shouldn’t have asked that. Peter wasn’t in a good place right now - maybe Tony should’ve just complied with his wishes and tried again later - but he couldn’t just stand by while his kid was hurting.

“I - I don’t want to hurt you.” Peter’s voice was quiet, words sounding as broken as Tony’s heart.

“You won’t, kiddie, I promise you-” he tried to reach for Peter’s shoulder, but the boy just stepped back, and Tony let his hand fall, staring sadly.

He opened his mouth to try again, but suddenly, he heard sirens begin to echo in the distance. Panic rose in his throat.

“Alright, Peter, how about we finish this conversation at the tower, then, yeah?”

Peter looked up at him, but the boy’s usually lively eyes were simply glass; empty shells.

“I’m so sorry, Peter, but we have to go,” Tony pleaded, wondering what would happen if Peter continued to refuse to move. “Look, the police are coming, and-”

A sudden look of peace crossed Peter’s features, so serene it made Tony stop in his tracks.

“Good,” he said softly, leaning against the wall, looking out of the alleyway towards the street.

“Peter?” Tony felt like he was having a mini heart attack. “What the hell are you doing? Do you know what would happen if the police see you near- if they see you in this alleyway?”

Peter met Tony’s eyes with the most calm they’ve had since Tony found him. “They’ll arrest me,” he answered simply.

“Uh, yeah! Right-O, kid, so let’s go, _now_.”

“No.”

“ _No?_ ” Tony cried incredulously. The sirens got louder. “Why the hell not?”

Tony wished he hadn’t asked.

“Because I deserve it.”

The sirens got closer - or were those simply the warning bells in Tony’s own mind? One thing was for sure-

“No. We’re not doing this.” Tony stepped back, letting the Iron Man suit form around him. “Karen,” he called, trusting Friday to connect the call. “Take Peter to the tower. Activate Autopilot Protocall.”

Peter started to stand - or, it looked like it was Peter; judging from the confused shout coming from inside, Tony knew it was the suit that was in control.

“M-Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Peter called shakily as the suit began to move, Peter now being pulled along with it. It shot a wire to the top of the building and hauled Peter up, propelling him in the direction of the tower.

If anyone else was watching, they might’ve just seen Spider-Man, but Tony knew better. The stiff movements, not swinging too close to the ground, the lack of flips and shouts and cheers - that wasn’t Peter in control.

“Sorry, kid,” Tony muttered to himself as he followed the retreating figure to the tower, flying behind, the sounds of sirens echoing behind him.

  * ••



When Tony landed on the roof of the tower, Peter was already waiting there, sitting, knees tucked up against his chest. Tony landed behind him, disengaging the suit to step carefully towards the boy.

Sobbing.

That was the first sound that reached his ears as soon as he stepped out of the suit. _Peter’s_ sobbing.

“Peter,” Tony called out quietly, but Peter just shook his head and continued to cry. Tony continued forwards until he stood beside Peter, joining him on the ground silently without any physical contact. He had learned his lesson.

“Talk to me, kiddo, please,” he pleaded quietly, eyes tracing over the Spider-Man mask Peter still wore - but the kid didn’t say a word. “Or at least take off the suit.”

Peter shook his head again.

“What if you n-need to restrain me a-again?” he said quietly between gasps, and Tony never hated the Spider-Man suit like he did in that moment.

“Peter - geez, kid, no. Goodness, no. I would never do that. Nothing you could ever do would warrant me doing that. I just wanted to keep you safe, get you out of harm’s way.” Peter didn’t respond, eyes still staring straight ahead to the horizon. “Come on, kid, at least take off the mask.”

Peter’s fingers twitched like he wanted to, but thought better of it.

“Everyone’s safer this way.”

Tony wanted to laugh. “Safer of what? Pete, you’re a fifteen-year-old kid in a onesie.”

“A fifteen-year-old,” Peter confirmed quietly, “with enhancements that make me able to stop a truck and hold a ferry together with my bare hands, and a technologically improved suit that has a literal _instant kill_ mode, Mr. Stark! I-” He cut himself off, breathing deeply. “I’m dangerous.”

Tony sat quietly for a moment, thinking, as his eyes roamed over Peter’s hunched-over figure. The suit was encompassing his entire body, no sounds emitting from the boy - even so, Tony knew he was crying. Maybe it was the way Peter was sitting. Maybe Tony just _sensed_ it. Either way, the kid was _definitely_ crying. He was sure.

“Can you tell me what happened, Peter?” He continued soothingly, never once taking his eyes off the kid. Peter shrugged, the wide eyes of Spider-Man turning to meet his hesitantly.

Peter’s voice was so broken, shattered into a million pieces Tony felt they would never recollect again.

“I killed him.”

Tony’s eyes widened suddenly and he leaned forwards, hand finding its way to the juncture of Peter’s neck and shoulder. Peter seemed too shocked at the sudden action to flinch back.

“No! Geez, Peter, you _did not_ kill him.”

Surprise and whole-hearted _relief_ flooded Peter’s expression when he finished, and he all but collapsed into Tony’s outreached hand. Tony gently raised his other hand to support Peter’s other shoulder and held him up, thumb stroking along his collarbone. Then, slowly, when he realized Peter wasn’t going to react, he inched his hand towards Peter’s mask and slowly began to pull it up over his head.

First, Peter’s downturned lips were revealed, followed by the heavy tear tracks over his cheeks, then closed, red-rimmed eyes, and finally, the usually-fluffy curls that seemed to fall flat and heavy on his head. Tony adjusted his right hand so it was placed on Peter’s cheek, using his thumb to gently stroke along his cheekbone. Peter leaned further into the touch.

“You didn’t kill him, Pete, no. You could never do that.”

Peter blinked his eyes open, releasing a new onslaught of tears. He didn’t look so sure.

“I almost did.”

“Why, kiddie?” Tony whispered. He knew his voice was a hair’s length away from pleading, but at this point he didn’t care. He was confused, and worried, and, dare he say, _scared_ . He knew Peter would never willingly beat a civilian so… so _viciously_ \- so what had possessed him? What had poisoned his innocent mind?

Peter answered with a single word. “Flash.”

A dark veil settled over Tony’s eyes. “ _That_ was Flash?” He had heard of this kid, this bully that tormented Peter daily. Peter had told Tony some of the things Flash had said - nothing too severe, so he had told Peter to just ignore it. He was too smart for that school, those kids, anyway. He didn’t know Flash was a thirty-year-old _man_.

Tony tensed, ready to go kill that man _himself_ , when Peter suddenly reached up and grabbed the hand that was on his cheek, keeping Tony down.

“No, that wasn’t Flash,” he muttered, eyes trailing back down to the pebbles coating the roof. Tony tilted his head, watching the kid’s eyes flicker back and forth between rocks before he spoke again. “Acted a lot like him, though.”

Tony waited quietly until Peter finally cleared his throat.

“It - it was at school, and there were some grade eights who came to - to check it out, right? Like, for next year. And there was this one girl….”

Peter paused for a moment, blinking quickly as he raised his head to look up at the horizon line, sun beginning to droop, casting the rooftop in a faint orange glow.

“He led her away,” he continued quietly, “and no one saw her leave… not the teachers….” Peter bit his lip and blinked, hard. Tony made a mental note to pay for extra security at that school, no matter what came out of Peter’s mouth next.

“He pushed her up against a locker….” Peter didn’t continue, and Tony didn’t think he needed to. An icy grip had already clutched the man’s heart, eyes hardening as he imagined the scene unfold in his mind - a young girl, wide-eyed and innocent, following an older boy into an empty hallway….

Tony didn’t think Peter needed to continue, but he did anyways.

“I mean, he didn’t - _do_ anything, I guess, but she looked so… so _scared_ , Mr. Stark.” His voice was high-pitched and young, and Tony’s chest ached for him. Peter was too young for this. He didn’t _deserve_ it - the burden of Spider-Man, seeing all the things he’s seen.

“I just jumped in, and Flash started kicking _me_ instead, but the girl got away safely.”

This seemed to be the part that _least_ upset Peter - which was ironic, because it was the part that _truly_ made Tony’s blood boil. Sure, he was _pissed_ about Flash taking advantage of that poor girl, but _no one_ got to kick his kid.

Before he could acknowledge it, Peter continued.

“I just - I couldn’t do anything as Peter Parker, y’know? And when I saw those two in the alleyway….” He sighed. “I don’t know. I just wanted the chance to do something as Spider-Man.”

Tony cleared his throat, which had become clogged somewhere during Peter’s monologue. He had _no idea_ Peter had been thinking like that - and yet, the idea had been _very_ Peter-like, indeed. Sacrificing himself if only to save one other person, letting injustice bury itself so far in his subconscious, the second it got led out-

Coping mechanisms. That was the first thing on Tony’s list - the kid needed coping mechanisms. And maybe - no, _definitely_ \- he’d need to call the school and get that Flash kid out; suspended, even. He’d also have to increase security-

“You can - you can take my suit away now,” Peter whispered suddenly, eyes staring diligently down at the mask his shaky fingers were toying with in his lap. Tony just cocked his head.

“Huh?”

Peter sighed deeply before shakily raising an arm to hold out his mask to Tony, eyes still staring at his lap. Tony watched him freeze in this position, waiting for _something_ to happen - something Tony wasn’t about to do, not again. He had learned enough from the ferry incident.

Gently, Tony placed his hands around Peter’s, the boy tensing at the sudden contact - but Tony just wrapped Peter’s fingers tighter around the mask, clutching the boy’s fists in his own hands. Peter looked up incredulously, Tony meeting his gaze with a slightly bowed head and a small smirk.

“I’m not going to take your suit, kiddo.”

Peter was flabbergasted. “What - uh, why n-not? I mean, I - I’m a mon-”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony said sternly, hands tightening strongly, though not unkindly, around Peter’s, “don’t you dare finish that sentence. You are not, and never have been, anything remotely _close_ to that word. Now, I don’t want to hear you say that _ever_ again, understand?”

Peter’s eyes just fluttered in a semi-blink.

“Do you understand me?”

Maybe it was the intensity in the man’s eyes, or the strength and determination in his voice - either way, Peter had the sense to nod, lips quirked up in a soft smile. Tony nodded, letting his hands fall lax, still gripping Peter’s.

“I’m not taking your suit, but we _will_ be doing some more training, okay? Anger management. Coping mechanisms. No beating up civilians.”

Peter was quick to nod, his head beginning to droop sadly to his lap, when Tony caught it quickly with one of his hands and gently lifted it back up. He kept his hand resting lightly under Peter’s chin as he looked him seriously in the eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly as tears began to form once again at the corners of Peter’s eyes. “You do _not_ blame yourself, okay? Peter, you did _good_ . You got another bad guy off the streets, and - that woman. Think of her, yeah? Think of how grateful she must be to Spider-Man right now - how grateful she must be to _you_.”

Peter began to smile suddenly, eyes taking on a faint glow - nothing close to how they had been shining before, but enough that Tony had hope they would, at one time, shine that way again.

“Come on.” Tony changed his tone as he moved to stand and offered a hand to Peter, who took it gratefully. When he was standing, Tony slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, and began to lead him towards the door that led into the compound below them. “I think I hear a movie night calling our name. And hot chocolates.”

Peter tensed suddenly as he walked, looking up at Tony quickly. “What about May?”

Tony met his expression, smirking. “Already called her on our way back to the tower.” Peter nodded, relaxing back against Tony’s side, who breathed a happy sigh as his hand clutched him closer. “See, kid, I got you.” And, just like Tony could sense Peter’s cries, he could swear he felt the boy smiling now.

“I always got you.”


End file.
